


under rocks

by supbea



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 14:35:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20448719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supbea/pseuds/supbea
Summary: It's not absolution Kory wants, it's understanding. Or peace rather, space to breathe. (Kory Centric piece.edit: title change)





	under rocks

under rocks

  
It’s not as if now that she knows, the air on earth, its atmosphere, or the pressure suddenly sit wrongly on her skin. It sits the way it always sits, and Kory thinks perhaps that is alien enough in and of itself. To feel no difference between the knowing and the not knowing, that, she thinks, is the strangest thing about her. Or perhaps, it is the knowledge without context or history or reasoning, or maybe the fact without application makes it all the more unreal and unbelievable, unknowable in the broadest sense.

  
Gar looks at her more now, looks at her strangely not with banked awe, and she doesn’t know if it’s to do with her actions at Killdeer or this new information come to light. She thinks he looks at her like she is vast and wide, unsearchable as oceans or deserts, the Sahara or an ice cap, somewhere to get lost. That is of course when she catches him looking, mostly he avoids her eye now (he doesn’t look at her like she could hold up the world – in all honesty she doesn’t think she’d want to).

  
The uncertainty will do her in, Kory’s sure, the mystery of it all, she’s sure though that you mustn’t be a mystery to yourself it’s lonely. The return to the Chicago safe house is no surprise, that place is an inevitability, with its impersonal opulence this place doesn’t suit any of them, but the view of the skyline, that cityscape, almost makes living in these glass walled, chilly grey and blue painted boxes worth it. There is a library of sorts that Kory finds herself drawn to, another glass box off a runway overlooking the cracks between two sky scrapers, it’s peaceful here and in the evenings the setting sun paints the sky peach, to lilac, to lavender, to mauve and she gets to watch it play out in the slits between buildings and the open sky above.

  
Rachel comes looking for her, the apartment is quiet, peacefully still. From here Kory can see Gar downstairs, he’s holding a book, not reading just staring at the pages and blinking, it breaks her heart to look. She can’t see Dick from here, but he’s around. Rachel knocks, taps really, very softly, she doesn’t wait to be called in, she’s more announcing her presence than anything else. Kory likes that that it’s not confidence of her welcome but being there anyway, nor is it bulldozing over her privacy, it’s just arriving and being available.

  
(If she had to say, Kory is the most frightened of this; how being so alien to them, and herself, will affect her relationships with those she’s come to love. This teeny tiny team, not quite family but getting there.)

  
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Rachel says, she’s still standing by the door pulling her sleeves down over her fingers, stretching the fabric until it’s taut.

  
But what can Kory say in response to that? (“Why yes Rachel, I have been avoiding you, everyone really, hell I’d avoid myself if I could.”) What can she do about the look in her eyes, that soft pleading look, a look that speaks of being hurt and hurting, of forgiveness she doesn’t think she is entitled to. What can Kory do besides open her arms and incline her head in a nod. It doesn’t take long for Rachel to nestle herself in the crook of Kory’s shoulder, arms wrapped around her waist and breathe in deep.

“There’s so much to say Rachel, and I’m having trouble finding the words,” Kory takes a deep, steeling breath and continues, “what happened to you, to Gar, to all of us was crappy, but we’re here after it all. We all need time and perspective.”(It still doesn’t come out how she wanted it to.)

  
“I was so scared Kory, you weren’t there, Dick wasn’t there, and I wanted you. I wanted you with us. Everything was awful. I missed you. Kory you make everything okay,”

  
And that’s touching until it isn’t, Kory doesn’t feel like she makes everything OK, she doesn’t feel very OK herself she hasn’t for a while, since the Asylum and maybe even before then, but she just didn’t know not really, didn’t really have a frame of reference until Killdeer, until the ship. But what is there to do besides squeeze Rachel a little tighter and drop a kiss to the top of her head. After that they don’t speak much just sit all curled up on the sofa and watch that pinkish purple-ish sunset.

  
Rachel falls asleep like that tucked into her side, face soft not unlike in awaking but without that rawness that by all accounts she should be too young to know. It occurs to Kory that they’re all a little bit broken, strung out. Kory watches the sun go down and the night blanket the sky, no stars but the glow from homes could be mistaken for them at a distance.

  
It is now, as the room is dusky and dark no lamp lit, that she see Dick, he’s leaning against the doorjamb, he’s still pale and haunted around the eyes but he’s soft everywhere else, arms folded, hip cocked, and one foot held behind the other.

  
“Dinner’s ready,” he half whispers, gentle voiced to match the rest of him.

  
Kory nods and nudges Rachel wake, she doesn’t wake with a start, just shudders and rubs the sleep out of her eyes, she stands holding a hand out for Kory, only frowning a little when she shakes her head and rolls her ring along her finger as she stands. Instead she brushes her palm along Rachel’s jaw and waits for her to leave the room.

  
The door way isn’t small, and Dick isn’t that big, but he seems to take up all the space of it, he tilts out of the way for Rachel but doesn’t move much when Kory comes closer, he lets her brush pass him and grips her wrist as she goes.

  
“Can I talk to you after? It feels like we haven’t talked, well… about anything.” Dick says, Kory can’t make out the tone in his voice; his eyes though catch hers and hold.

  
“Sure.”

  
Kory tugs her wrist out of his grip, Dick purses his lips at that and then sighs gentle, wistful, she couldn’t say longing (she doesn’t know that on him). He’s looking at her now, sneaking glimpses from the corner of his eye. Keeping up with her along the runway, he opens his mouth a few times in that brief journey to the bottom of the stairs, like he wants to say something but keeps cutting himself off before the words, or hell, even the thoughts can form.

  
There are takeaway containers lining the center of that long wooden table, and Gar is setting the places, he doesn’t look up when she draws near (at the other side of the table to him, his back to the wall the dim light coming in from the window painting one side of him in orange-ish grey-ish light, the other side in shifting shadows) he just grips the cutlery he has in his hand a little tighter the tendons in his hands flexing, Kory watches unsure of what to do as he consciously makes himself relax his grip.

  
She doesn’t say “hey Gar”, or “here, let me help,” instead she just reaches for a seat and waits for him to finish. He's set up the table two plates on each side, once he’s placed the last glass down he sits opposite her and one away. She doesn’t quite know what to say to him, Kory opens her mouth anyway.

  
“Gar, I…” but the rest won't come, the words dry in her throat and lodge there, sharp like fish bones.

  
Gar glances up at her, sweet brown eyes startled and brows gently pinched, mouth slightly down turned at the corners, he's angled away though, not curled in on himself but guarded. She curses herself over again for Killdeer, for recklessness, for this damned amnesia, and these sometimes violent tendencies, instincts. (Not that she can blame amnesia anymore, she's had her memories for the last week, her past unravels before and behind her, it’s the present and most recent past that she’s having trouble reconciling.) Rachel comes to the dining table and drops down into the seat beside her, if she senses, or is even bothered by, the tension Rachel makes no sign of it. Dick is rummaging in the cupboards under the island, he rises not holding anything, just wasting time then or buying time (or perhaps buying her time), Kory can see him carefully and quickly assess the table from the corner of her eye. (He's not doing much, just looking between all of them and Kory wonders what he’s thinking, if he sees her as a danger now, or, or, or.

  
What.)

  
When Dick reaches the table Rachel’s already picking at the containers, peeling back plastic lids and sticking her fork into things. Dick slides himself into the seat opposite her and nudges Gar into loading his plate, Gar does, startling into it like he forgot the food was in front of him, Kory watches him as he picks up something loaded with vegetables, tips a third of it onto his plate, and goes for some rice or noodles or whatever is in that next plastic tub, and then whatever else is in the other tubs.

  
Rachel is already eating besides her, quiet like Gar is (so she has noticed the tension then), but she’s determinedly shoveling food into her mouth taking deliberate bites, and watching Gar under her eyelashes. Dick's been picking from the containers he's got a pretty impressive plate in front of him, Kory doesn’t really notice what's on it as such, the food glistening with sauce that catches in that odd light from the window, she does start when he stretches across the table to her though and swaps out that plate with the empty one still in front of her.

  
She notices then too when Rachel and Gar slow down to a near stop in their determined eating, and she can’t help but notice too when Rachel firmly presses their legs together under the table, a warm heavy weight beside her. She wants to tell Dick to stop, that she’s not a child that needs minding, or a wild thing that needs watching, or, or, or.

  
But Kory does not do that, she's transfixed by the weight beside her, the warmth along her leg, the distant heat of the girl beside her, who loves her, who she loves in return. Kory doesn’t pull away even when Rachel resumes eating and her elbow knocks against her own, she forces herself to pick up her fork, not seeing the tension release from everyone’s shoulders as she begins to eat too. Only as she takes those first bites does Dick start on a plate for himself, and then she carefully and gently releases the tension she herself was holding.

  
It’s not the sort of dinner that begs conversation. Not that she would contribute overmuch if it did, that doesn’t stop Dick though, and it doesn’t suit him, plowing through all the awkward silences and half answers to create something like a dialogue. (It’s here that Kory thinks she really sees him, for not just what he is, but rather who he is, or could be at the very least. Dick Grayson is someone who tries, he really does, he doesn’t get it right all the time, but when he gets it into to his head to try, he does.) The dinner passes like that, stilted, fitful, half finished conversations that feel disjointed.

  
No one wants to be the first to leave the table, Dick keeps stretching out these nonsense stories, Rachel acts fascinated, and Gar listens intently. She finds she’s been playing with her rings again, she finds herself noting Dick's occasional peaking at her hands like he's waiting for her to stop, to engage perhaps, she doesn’t, can’t find the words, or even the want. In quiet brief moments she finds herself drawn back to her ship, her storage unit, it all unfolds behind her eyes in lightning quick flashes. She shakes herself out of those memories as subtly as she can with Gar's eyes on her, with Rachel near plastered to her side, with Dick's heavy gaze, and starts to stack up the plates.

  
When she rises from the table Dick does too, he picks up glasses and closed takeaway containers. She leaves the table with Dick at her heels, glasses stacked into each other. She places the plates on the island and scrapes everything into the food waste recycling. She carefully doesn’t make conversation with Dick and he doesn’t try either just throws out these little sighs under his breath and that’s almost irritating if she didn’t think he was nervous or at least thinking hard.

  
“Hey, could we talk now?” he asks eventually. He's run out of things to do with his hands it seems, dishwasher loaded and counters wiped down. He rests, arms folded ankles crossed, against the counter opposite the island, he breaks up the hard marble, and sleek crafted lacquered wooden cupboards with his nearly scruffy self; all soft low slung jogging bottoms, worn t-shirt and bare feet.

  
Flippant, and unintentionally difficult as it sounds all Kory can say in reply is: “Sure.” She wouldn’t mind saying more, maybe even try an honest conversation with him, she used to be good at those, but it won’t come. No words come, the river's run dry it looks.

  
He pushes off the counter and leads her to a room off that long dimly lit main corridor. The room he guides her into isn’t a bedroom but an office of some sort, this room hasn’t got any windows, just artful up-lighting a mahogany desk, a comfortable looking desk chair, and a plush sofa. He drops down onto the sofa like his strings have been cut, he leans sideways to the end table and sets up two tumblers and pours fingers of something amber and strong smelling, no ice. Kory doesn’t wait for him to invite her to sit down she just does, one leg curled up under her and her foot brushing the carpet, he didn’t leave much room so her knee brushes his side, that was probably his intention to have her close.

  
She doesn’t mind.

  
Dick passes her a glass, it's heavy crystal all angular diamond cuts and if she holds it just right Kory could cast little specters of brown gold light along the rug. She rolls the glass around between her hands and listens as it clinks against her rings. Dick takes these measured sips and makes no show about watching her.

  
“What’s going on with you, Kory?” he asks in a way that makes her look up, he's all gentle pleading tones and soft dark eyes.

  
She sighs sips her drink, “if I knew I'd tell you, believe me.”

  
“You said once, we could work it out together. Let's do that, here, now.” His voice is still soft, this achingly earnest tone, he looks like he wants to reach out to her, (maybe put his hand on her knee or grasp her hand in his, or brush his hand along her cheek. She may just be imagining that though, the maybe-longing, the simple unfulfilled want, on him).

  
“That was,” she pauses here, her breath knocked out of her like a punch, “that was before, Dick, before the asylum, before that X'Hal damned ship, before Killdeer, or Trigon. I'm different now, someone new maybe, or someone old, I don’t know. I can’t just pick up where I left off before knowing. Knowing my past changes things. I had, I have a mission, and I have people relying on me, back on my planet. That is not earth. My planet that Trigon could destroy in his greed. Dick, I can’t just brush this past that I've been searching for aside. What I came here to do, the promises I made.”

  
“I’m not asking you to do that, Kory, I want us to know that together, we can figure all that out, you still have your mission I get that, I do. But you said we're a team. We’re a team and that means we work through it together. We can do that. We’re still the same people we were before everything, you’re still the same person.”

  
That’s the catch though isn’t it? Kory doesn’t feel like the same person, she doesn’t know if she ever will, if she even ever was.

  
“Kory, let me in. Let me help, I can try, I can’t promise to know everything but I can help with some things. Talk to me.” Dick pleads, glass cast aside placed on the floor forgotten, he's looking at her like she is something, like he wants something he can’t ask for, or even begin to describe.  
She can’t answer that, so she doesn’t.

  
She twirls her broad ring around her finger, rolls it round and around and can’t quite seem to meet his eyes, so she doesn’t do that either and let’s their quiet room lapse into silence, allows them both to relax into it. It feels like an eternity that they sit there, in that small room, off that dimly lit corridor, but in honesty there isn’t much left for them to say, so they sit in this gentle silence. It's easy to be lulled into this sort of companionship.

  
“Dick,” she says softly, quiet to match the room, “I have to go.”

  
She catches his eyes and holds it. He was drifting off, with his head tipped back against the sofa, arm slung along the top of it, in the small space between them stretching out towards her his fingertips brush along her curls. At her words he tenses, jaw clenching and throat a hard taut line.

  
“You don't mean to bed, do you?” He jokes dryly, but he says it with certainty, like he already knows her answer expected it maybe. He slowly leans forward scrubbing his hands on his face, a gruff betraying movement. He brings his forearms to rest on his thighs bending double, he looks at her not confusion on his face, but something close to acceptance, understanding almost.

  
“You'll come back, right?” He presses, voice soft too but insistent, dark eyes drawing up to search her own, his gaze gentling, he leans into her slightly, body angling towards her and his knees knocking against hers. His gaze somehow gentles further.

  
He waits her out, it feels like eons pass, but no, just a few seconds, Kory has been holding her breath, she didn’t realise until she heaves, “yeah, eventually, I just need more answers than I have right now.”

  
Dick sighs, a heavy long drawn out thing, from his chest almost, like he was holding his breath too, he leans back abruptly and scrubs his hands over his face again, in those seconds he seems to come to a resolution Kory watches it play out on his face.

  
“I hope you find those answers, Kory I really do.”

  
Kory watches him at that, and watches him watch her, looks not lingering or under lashes, but stark and bold, she thinks this is another moment when she really sees him, this unguarded something on his face directed at her, not a look she's seen before on him, although she hasn’t known him all too long, has she? But for all of this, all of that, she wants to give him something. She can’t give him reassurance or even hope, she cannot even give herself that, but she aches for something for him, for herself, for the both of them. She reaches across to him and squeezes his hand, once, twice, he's shocked judging by the flush creeping up his neck, but she whisks her hand away before he can grip her back.

  
…

  
The morning creeps up on her, she looks at the rucksack she's packed, a few days worth of clothes, some toiletries and not much else. Her purse fits in her jacket pocket so does her phone, she has comfortable shoes tucked near her rucksack, flatter soled and hard wearing, these beige off white trainers non-descript and boring as she could find in one of wardrobes she'd raided. She sits on the sofa in the main living room, mug of coffee and slices of toast on the coffee table, she watches the steam rise of the mug and reaches to take a drink.

  
She's waiting for the others to wake and start stumbling out of their rooms. She doesn’t have to wait long, only until the sun has been peeking out of the clouds for about an hour, then Gar comes out soon, and Rachel on his heels. She doesn’t turn to watch them come into the open room, just points them to the coffee pot and newly boiled kettle. She’s only slightly surprised when Gar sits on the armchair near the sofa with his bowl of cereal, he doesn’t say much to her only a muttered greeting before he falls on his bowl. Rachel drops beside her, a similar bowl of cereal in her hand, she places her mug of coffee next to Kory’s and doesn’t use a coaster. It seems neither of them noticed her rucksack tucked away near the front door.

  
Kory resolves not to tell them until she needs to (it's not cowardly she tells herself), just let them have this only barely strained breakfast together. Dick walks in, he doesn’t call good morning but neither did anyone else, he just fixes himself some coffee, and Kory carefully doesn’t wonder how he takes his, the man he pretends to be might take it as it comes, but the man he shows her, shows them, might take it with creamer and sugar, or not she doesn’t really know him.

  
He doesn’t sit with them straight away, he just busies himself in the kitchen, rummages in fruit bowls, and around cupboards, like he’s looking for spare bits of courage in those places. If Kory had to guess she'd say he didn’t sleep well, he looks rumpled and a little worn around the edges. Rachel turns to look at him openly from beside her, turns right around in her seat, empty bowl dashed to the coffee table, they’re speaking with only looks, whatever conversation or argument they’re having Rachel is winning it seems, judging from the smirk quivering at the corner of Gar's mouth, it's a good look on him, Gar has a face for smiling, sweet eyes and cheeks and a naturally happy looking mouth.

  
Dick sits with them eventually, crooked tilt to his mouth like he’s trying to smother a smile, it's nice to see on him, Kory thinks suddenly and privately that he’s got a face for smiling too. His expression changes when he meets her eyes, not shutters off as such but sobers really, some of the joy leached away at the sight of her replaced with something else. He gives a low toned good morning her way though. Beside her Rachel makes no comment just leans back into her seat and Gar feigns interest in his already empty bowl.

  
Her necklace feels heavy at the base of her throat, she runs her fingers over her rings and greets him back. She feels weighed down by the sudden urge to go, there’s been a thrumming just under her skin since her decision to leave, this need for action, but it’s formless and bright. She sits there with them a while longer, this little mish-mashed team, this little gaggle of strange almost content people she'd have liked to call family, or even friends. Dick’s watching eyes follow her as she rises and brings her plate and mug to the dishwasher, she can feel his heavy gaze on her as she goes down the corridor to the bathroom.

  
She rounds the corner and doesn’t expect to feel his hand on her elbow as she turns the handle, it always surprises her how quiet and quick he can be when he chooses to. He holds onto her elbow, and by the way he's absently stroking the crease of her joint he's probably forgotten he’s doing it. Kory doesn’t pull her arm away, she lets him have this, lets them both have this this contact. He’s so close to her in the scanty space of the doorway, he doesn’t try to say anything. She waits him out, he just ducks head and his gaze away from her own, keeps up that steady pressure on her elbow.

  
“I'm just going to the bathroom, Dick, I wasn’t going to just leave like that.” Trying to guess at why he followed her, she doesn’t know if he even hears her, she's about to say it again when he cuts in with.

  
“I could come with you, you know? Gar and Rachel could stay with Hank and Dawn for a little while, or hell even Donna, although she'd probably kill me for it.” He says it quickly, like if he took the time to process what he was saying then he'd never say it in the first place.

  
“Dick…” But what can she possibly say to that, something that is too honest by half, too raw and could never happen in the first place. Gar and Rachel need him, especially now. She says as much.  
“We need you too.” He says softly, plainly, like it costs nothing to admit that.

  
Kory shakes her head, “no, you all need something stable, and I’m not there yet. They've been through so much, we've all been through so much, and we all need time to sort through that.” She watches as he holds himself so carefully, as he holds just that little portion of her so carefully.

  
“Dick,” she continues, “I won't be gone for long.” She promises foolishly, she doesn’t know how long it will take, and she's been so good at not making impossible promises. (That’s what she appreciates about him, that he never makes impossible promises, foolhardy statements.)

  
“You’re leaving?”

  
They both whip around at the sound of Gar's voice, that’s the first thing he's properly said to her if throwing the question to the both of them counts, (it seems Dick did realise that he was holding on to her, if the way he quickly squeezes her elbow once more, and glides his fingertips down to her wrist as he turns to fully face Gar and Rachel, who is standing a half step behind him, is to be believed, Kory doesn’t know what to make of that action) Kory doesn’t know what to say to Gar at that, the only thing is the truth.

  
“Yeah, Gar, I'm leaving for a bit-”

  
He interrupts, “how long for? Will you be back?”

  
That knocks the breath right out of her. She answers him on a exhale, “yeah, Gar, of course.” She doesn’t know how to take the downward twist of his mouth, or the pull between his brow.

  
“When are you leaving?” Rachel asks from behind him, there is a bitter tone to her voice, a sourness that creeps from her.

  
She doesn’t answer that so instead Kory goes around Dick to reach for them, gratified when Rachel reaches back, and pleased more so when Gar lets her pull him into their hug, she throws her hand out behind her for Dick to hold onto and drags him in when she feels his rough palm against hers. They’re not the group hug type, not the sort of people to show emotion quite like this, but in that brief moment it fits them, and soothes all the pent up rawness they’re feeling.

  
She doesn’t know how long they stay like that, a little bubble, but it can’t be long, a handle of seconds at most. Kory is the first to disentangle herself, she knows enough to know that if she stayed with them longer she's lose the will to leave in the first place. She holds onto the feeling of Gar's arms around her, Rachel’s breath on her neck, and Dick's warmth all along her side, not knowing when she'll feel this again, wanting to savour this particular moment.

  
She eventually gets to the bathroom, washes her hands, and brushes her hands under her eyes, along her forehead and cheeks. She comes back out into that too narrow corridor and finds the others milling around pretending to be busy. She’s toeing on her trainers ignoring her growing audience, shrugging on her jacket and pulling her rucksack over one shoulder, as she turns to them she watches their faces, the firm line of Gar's mouth, the avoidance of Rachel’s eyes, and the telling crossed arms of Dick that belies the assuring look on his face, his casual leaning against the wall.

  
“See you,” Kory doesn’t say 'soon', she can’t bring that falsehood into the air. Standing by the front door she takes a last look at them as they are. Gar takes an abortive step towards her, opening his mouth closing it again quickly.

  
“Kory...” he shakes himself and seems to gather his courage, “Kory-”

  
A soft rapping on the door interrupts him, he startles at the sound, eyes rounding and looking sharply behind him at Dick, Dick kicks off the wall, moving quickly in front of them all, his shoulders square and he clenches his jaw as he slowly turns the handle. Rachel and Gar hold themselves tightly, shifting in place and rigid. Kory feels the same familiar and comforting crackle of light beneath her skin she always does when she brings that fire close to the tips of her fingers, she angles herself fully in-between whatever is behind that door and Gar and Rachel.

  
“Seriously, Grayson, cut the crap and let me in.” Calls a voice Kory recognises.

  
When Dick pulls the door open completely it's a familiar figure that waits for them, the smirking and softly teasing (she would consider it naturally teasing if she really knew her) face of Donna. In their brief interaction Kory has come to, if not trust her, trust Dick’s trust for her. Dick deflates at the sight of his old friend, allowing her into the tight corridor.

  
“You could look happier to see me, you know.” She says a laugh in her voice, and knocking Dick on the shoulder. She continues pitching her voice lower and gruffer, “Hey Donna, how's it going, welcome to our safehouse, yes there is beer in the fridge, take off your shoes.” She looks around, and casts her gaze at the others in front of her frowns and asks, “or am I interrupting?”

  
The question is met with silence that just stretches more awkward by the moment. Rachel isn’t saying anything sullen expression on her face, Gar isn’t saying anything letting the question lay there, and Dick looks at Kory expectant.

  
She shakes herself, “no, no you’re not. I'm just on my way out.” She shifts her rucksack on her shoulder and edges toward the still open door.

  
Donna plants herself more firmly in the doorway, if it wasn’t directed at her Kory thinks she would appreciate that sort of forcefulness, that sort of steady determination. “Yeah? Where you headed?”  
The question catches her off guard, because that’s the kicker isn’t it? Kory doesn’t really know where she’s headed, not really, just that she can’t stay here and that she has to be there elsewhere, or more truthfully that she'll know what she's looking for when she finds it, but that's a useless and simpering cliché. She steels herself, and answers as truthfully as she can.

  
“Not sure. I think I'll let my feet lead me.” It's the truth as plainly as she can give it, but it doesn’t fit right either, it's honest but not the entirety of what she could say, what she wants to say.

  
Donna looks at her, this heavy lingering gaze that reminds Kory of her time spent with her in the woodland surrounding Angela's house in Killdeer, this searching gaze. Like Donna wants to pick her apart, but doesn’t quite know how, or what she would find if she did, it's unnerving only because Kory herself doesn’t know what Donna would find. Kory wraps her hand around the strap cutting into her shoulder and makes for the door, Donna shifts to let her through and holds onto Kory's upper arm as she passes. Kory raises an eyebrow, and waits for Donna to do something.

  
“Let’s exchange numbers.” She says with a half smile, dark eyes boring into Kory’s own, “here, give me your phone?” She holds her free hand out, palm up, fingerings wiggling and expectant.

  
“Sure,” Kory acquiesces after a moment. She hands her phone over, watching Donna type in her own number and then drop calling herself, when Donna gives it back Kory locks the screen and drops it into her jacket pocket, not bothering to look. She pulls her arm away and looks over Donna shoulder into that dim corridor at that ragtag sort of team of hers, she offers them a half smile and walks to the elevator.  
“Kory!” Gar calls out from behind Donna and Dick, looks her in the eye from that distance between them and says “be safe, yeah?”

  
Kory feels the smile that tugs at her lips build before she can temper it, make it less telling, “yeah, Gar, you too. Look after each other.”

  
As the elevator doors close behind her she sees Donna elbow Dick and try to whisper but in the empty space between them it carries, “yeah, I definitely see why you like her so much.”

  
But the doors close before she can hear or see his reaction.

  
…

  
Once she reaches the street Kory breathes as deeply as she can, picks a direction, starts walking and carefully doesn’t look back at the building she was just in. She pulls the other strap over her shoulder and shoves her hands in her jacket pocket, thankful she chose something shorter and lighter, her usual fur coat wouldn’t be half as comfortable with the rucksack, although it might have been warmer.

  
The street is quick moving and crowded, the press of people move her faster than she was intending, in this mid-morning rush Kory gets to see the world she's been in differently. Before meeting Rachel, or any of the others or anything that came with meeting them, she didn’t see these people, not really, not when she was in Austria, or even being here in Illinois. But it is this city paced ambling gives her pause to look deeper.

  
It’s not as if Kory thought herself separate from all of these people before she knew of her past or where she’s even from, but she was focused, focused on learning herself, focused on staying alive and keeping the others alive. Focused on the sort of mystery of it all, the immediacy. But now that particular portion of the mystery is solved she has the time to wander, and wonder about the people she is among, an alien in their midst something not human but a person the same way. She finds herself at the Geyhound bus station, it's louder than she expected, fast moving people, bright florescent lights overhead, and sweaty smelling.

  
She queues behind a teenager wearing headphones, EDM playing loud enough for her to hear, they’re on their phone, screen obscured by smudges and fingerprints. The queue moves slowly in contrast to the other people around, the open area feels humid despite it's open size, the smell of all the people around not rancid as such, but pervasive. Eventually she reaches the front of the queue as it branches into several holes in the wall kiosks, glass divide between the cashiers. As she is called forward, Kory slips her rucksack off her shoulders and gingerly places it on the concrete floor between her feet.

  
“Yeah, how can I help?” asks the disinterested cashier, Kory flicks her gaze over her noting her finger width dreadlocks gold wire wrapping about a few of the ones that frame her face how they catch in the yellow light, and her smooth dark skin russet undertone, the woman looks at her expectant, she raises an eyebrow.

  
It takes her a moment, here she is, her feet have brought her all the way to this dingy Greyhound bus station, now what? She’s taking a bus clearly but to where? Austria would need an actual plane ticket, Germany too, most of the places of recent memory require more than a slow bumbling bus ride, cozied up beside strangers.

  
“Is there a bus that goes to Ohio?” Kory asks, she’s not quite sure why she picked Ohio, just the first place that popped into her head maybe, she rocks forward leans the heels of her palms against the chest high desktop between them.

  
“Sure,” the woman types briefly, brushing a loc that falls into her face behind her shoulder the movement natural from frequency, “there’s a bus leaving in 30 minutes.” The woman looks at her askance, “You know you’re probably better off getting the train right? It'll be much quicker.”

  
“No, I don’t mind.” Kory answers after watching the woman’s face, the open question there, she doesn’t know what makes her add, “I think I'll like the drive.”

  
The woman (‘Abbie' her name tag says) continues to look at Kory, searching for something or perhaps nothing and Kory is overthinking it. “For a single that'll be $59.99.”

  
Abbie's eyebrow raises again, and she whistles low under her breath, “you got anything smaller than a $100 bill?”

  
“No, 'fraid not.”

  
“Why you got a bill that big anyway?” Abbie asks, fixing her change and printing her ticket.

  
“I’m going on vacation.” Is the first thing she thinks to say.

  
“With American currency? In Ohio?”

  
Kory tries not to either bite through her tongue, or let the humour she feels at this whole exchange show on her face. “I’m meeting some friends in Ohio, that was the smallest bill the Post Office could give me.” She lies through her teeth, she has the suspicion that Abbie knows she’s lying too.

  
But Abbie doesn’t press her further, “right. You’ll want terminal 13.”

  
…

  
Kory sits toward the back of the bus, drops her rucksack to the aisle seat and slipping off her jacket, smoothing out her maroon sweater, as she sits in the padded seat she's glad she wore soft jeans. The space fills slowly, still a lot of empty seats and single travelers, no one sits behind or in front of her. The bus pulls away though, mostly full and on time.

  
As they leave the terminal Kory feels herself relax more fully, letting go of this tension she didn’t know she was holding in her shoulders, in the clench of her hands. She doesn’t nod off as such, just drifts along, breath coming easier with each mile she goes. The bus is pretty quiet she finds, hushed conversation where there is any, three rows behind her at the very back someone lets loose a loud snore.

  
Her phone in her jacket pocket buzzes with an incoming text. Her lockscreen lights up: **‘GAR, 2 Unread Messages'**

  
**GAR to YOU: hey, Kory. **

  
**GAR to YOU: um, i'm sorry if i made u feel uncomfortable, with like, the whole not talking w/u thing. i just, idk, i just want u to know that i'm sorry for being distant.**

  
What can she say to that, this young man too honest by half, open and gentle and even though he’s aching he still wants to reach out. Kory reachesback, she doesn’t hesitate when she writes:

  
**YOU to GAR: hey Gar, don’t worry about that, I understand how it’s difficult, we have so much to get used to now. I never held anything against you. Don’t be sorry about how you feel. Don’t apologise for feeling hurt.**

  
But here she is, being too honest by half as well, telling to much and not even how she’d like to. His response comes near instantly.

  
**GAR to YOU: but i feel sort of responsible, i guess? like u should be here, something's missing, u shouldn’t feel like u have to leave.**

  
**YOU to GAR: Gar, who says I'm leaving because of how you made me feel? What if I needed to leave for me?**

  
**GAR to YOU: right, yeah, that’s also a thing. u doing u.**

  
That startles a laugh out her, that unguarded sweetness. His next text pings in rapid.

  
**GAR to YOU: where u headed then? clearly u didn’t want company, but can i know?**

  
That catches her off guard, she didn’t want company, the thought didn’t even occur to her. She doesn’t want company, not the company Dick offered, or the comfort he or even Gar or Rachel would provide. She doesn’t want company or placating, she’s not sure where she’s headed, not sure of her destination besides Ohio, apparently. Nobody gets by alone, she knows this, but still here she is. She doesn’t know how to put it into words yet, that she won’t always not want company, but solitude feels best right now, she answers his question instead.

  
**YOU to GAR: Ohio. **

  
**GAR to YOU: ??? Ohio? what’s in Ohio?**

  
**YOU to GAR: I'll let you know. Not actually there yet.**

  
**GAR to YOU: :P**

  
The laugh that knocks out of her is obnoxiously loud and genuine. The next few hours pass like that, exchanging silly texts and at Gar's insistence snapping photos of the journey. He’s good company for all that he’s miles and miles away. She watches the landscape change through wide windows with the bright sun streaming down, watches the city turn to overpass turn to highway turn to open roads. (She buys a sandwich from the second shift driver that offers as she deals with other passengers. Doesn’t eat it yet, just leaves it on the seat on top of her rucksack.)

  
The drive is more peaceful than Kory would have imagined it to be. The city roads turn to country quickly, the rolling roads and open flat fields that mark entering Indiana lull her into sleep.

  
…

  
When Kory wakes up, after a few hours of snatched sleep, there are seven unread messages, and one missed call and voicemail waiting for her. She doesn’t know if it’s guilt that churns in her stomach or anticipation. Her lockscreen stares up at her blank and accusing. Five messages from Gar, two from Rachel, and a missed call and voicemail from Dick.

  
She answers Gar's texts first: no she will not stop to free any cattle; yes she did take photos of the sun peeking over the rolling hills; the bus hit a pothole so yeah the photo of that cool cloud is blurry but she’ll take another one; yes she did buy lunch she just got a club sandwich the vegan option sounded awful; and finally: yeah she’s fine, she just fell asleep.

  
The texts from Rachel make her ache, the first only slightly accusing: she will be back no she couldn’t just leave without even saying goodbye properly; and: of course she didn’t leave because Rachel messed with her mind that one time. (It's only slightly dishonest.)

  
The voicemail from Dick Kory leaves until last, just the thought of it feels heavy weighted not like an anvil, but something grounding, an anchor almost.

  
“Hey Kory, it's Dick. How're you? No I mean, how’s the journey? Gar said you're travelling? Well he didn’t say that, he was texting and I asked, he was pretty tight lipped really. But I guess you’re travelling? Is that it? – Crap, just call me when you get a chance? Okay? Right.”

  
It’s rambling and stilted and not really like him, but Kory listens to it twice anyway. She calls him back. It rings twice before he picks up.

  
“Hey Kor,” he says, his voice soft and gentle around the edges.

  
“So, I got your message.” She says, her voice gentle like his.

  
“Yeah,” (she imagines him rolling his shoulder all semi-bashful, not wanting to give anything away, but doing so anyway, accidentally) “right, give me one sec,” it sounds like shifting, as if he’s moving about, light breaths in her ear, small puffs and slow steps, voices in the background.

  
“Right, sorry, I just went somewhere more quiet, I think Donna got Rachel and Gar to play Cards Against Humanity. I have no idea why Bruce even has that, never played with me.” Over the phone there is a soft sound like air being pushed out of a chair, Dick's sat down probably, maybe on that sofa in that small quiet room.

  
Kory finds herself relaxing into her seat, “I’ve never played that at all.”

  
“Seriously?” He asks, surprise colouring his voice, “wow, I'll have to show you. You cannot spend any longer than you already have not playing Cards Against Humanity. It’s a crime.”

  
“That’s pretty big talk, Grayson, this dumb game better deliver.”

  
“It will, trust me, 100% satisfaction and entertainment guaranteed.” He says, a laugh in his voice, she laughs a long with him.

  
“I'm holding you to that.” She replies, smiling as she says it.

  
“Do.” Dick says voice suddenly somber and honest, “do, hold me to that,” he repeats, it feels heavy and like it means something to him that she does.

  
“Dick-” Kory starts.

  
He interrupts her, words tumbling over each other, “sorry, forget that, seriously.” He pauses here, takes deep gusty breath, it sounds far away like he pulled the phone away from his mouth.

  
“So where did you end up going?” He asks instead.

  
“Ohio, as it turns out.” She answers letting him redirect the conversation. By the sigh let lets out he's grateful.

  
His voice turns sharp shocked, “Ohio? What’s in Ohio? Are you heading back to Killdeer? To Angela’s. Ko-”  
“No, I'm not.” She cuts him off, before he works himself up in a righteous rage. “I’m not going to Angela's, I just… There's something about Ohio, you know? Something calling to me, maybe? Something I need to find there.”

  
“Well,” he stops, gathers himself maybe, bites back on things that he could say to fill the growing silence. “When you find it, let me know.”

  
“I will.” She answers him, honestly finding she really means it when she says it.

  
They talk a little more, nonsensical things, not nonsensical but rather mundane, they talk softly about easy mundane things: has he ever been to Indiana? Did she take the train? Why did she even take a Greyhound? The train would have been quicker. How long does that Greyhound even take? Will they have a comfort stop? The next time she sojourns she’ll have to at least drive herself, for nothing if not dignity’s sake (that gets him a laughing 'Screw you Dick').

  
But eventually she sighs and says quietly on an exhale, “Hey, Dick, I have to go.”

  
He stops himself abruptly and it sounds like he scrubs a hand over his face as he says, “Sure, right.” He doesn’t hang up, but lingers and says apropos, “‘and miles to go before I sleep.’”

  
Kory can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “‘the woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.’” She finishes for him.

  
He snorts a chuckle, “yeah, that’s the one.”

  
“See you, Dick.” She waits a beat, and another, then she hangs up.

  
(So she can quote Robert Frost, but she doesn’t fully remember her life from before a few weeks ago. She'd be more annoyed if it wasn’t funny, or sad, she can’t decide which one.)

  
The rest of her journey goes quietly, watching the window in between texting Gar and Rachel, she eats her sandwich and wishes she hadn’t, it was much too dry. She settles in somewhere around the four hour mark and has another nap, only waking when the bus rumbles to a stop three hours later. She shrugs on her jacket and rucksack thanks the drivers and goes out into the Ohio evening.

  
The motel she stays at that night isn’t much, but the reception is clean, the receptionist hands her the keys with little fuss not looking too closely that she pays in cash, or that she brought take out. She doesn’t mind the room, the old seventies wallpaper peeling at the overlaps, and the green shag pile carpet with too many stains (she just resolves not to take her shoes off or at least always wear socks), the bed is sturdy and old, the sheets look clean at least.

  
Kory drops her take out bag on the vanity, and her rucksack on the bed. She washes her hands twice, washes her face, and ties her hair in a high puff wraps a satin sleep scarf around her hairline, puts on her sleep clothes and eats her take out dinner. She doesn’t bother turn the television on, just lets herself listen to silence and think.

  
Think about why she’s even here, now that she’s here. In the light and near quiet of this motel room Kory can admit that she doesn’t know what made her pick Ohio. Doesn’t know what made her even leave in the first place, and what she'll do now that she’s here, now that she’s here in Ohio, where both everything and nothing happened.

  
She lets the question ping around in her head as she uses the bathroom again, and lets the question roll around her mind as she falls asleep.

  
She doesn’t dream, it's quite restful to be told.

  
…

  
So, Kory does find herself in Killdeer.

  
She wakes in that surprisingly comfortable motel bed, gets ready and returns her key. The town she's in isn't much, suburban and still. It’s leafy though, and that’s a nice change to sky scrapers and coffee shops. The roads are wide and the people don’t pay her any mind.

  
She comes across a bus stop, cracks in the safety glass and the bench seat is all scored up, but on the timetable there is a bus to Killdeer and that’s all she needs to convince her to sit down and wait. The bus ride isn’t long, well not long compared to the day before.

  
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She barely has it in her hand before it buzzes again.

  
**GAR TO YOU: did u watch that youtube video i sent u??**

  
**GAR TO YOU: u should it's very important, a must see vine compilation. very iconic.**

  
She smiles to herself at that, she doesn’t let herself over think it before she replies.

  
**YOU TO GAR: Good morning to you too. She hits send, and then types quickly. Hits send again.**

  
**YOU TO GAR: No, not yet, it's the second thing on my to-do list. I swear. **

  
**GAR TO YOU: …oh good… i'd hate 4 u to miss out**

  
They text back and forth like that for the entirety of her bus journey. It takes about an hour for her to get to Killdeer, the bus stop is on a lonely road, not the most convenient stop the driver tells her as she gets off, but she saw Angela’s house through the trees about a mile back, police tape still boarding the door and a shutter hanging off, how could she not get off here?

  
She fixes her rucksack more fully over her shoulders and starts walking, the road is quiet, only animals and the occasional car or truck passes her by. It takes her less time than she thought it would to get to the house, about fifteen minutes in all, and she finds herself with plenty of time to second guess her decision, but she continues walking. (She's never gotten anywhere by being a coward. She will find a reasonable explanation for Dick at some point. Later.)

  
She sees the house again from the road and between the dense trees, all looming and dark even in the bright daylight, the wooden paneling has fallen away in places and the porch roof has begun to sag. She picks her way through the trees as she gets closer she sees there are footprints disturbing the dust and beer bottles littered about. She pushes the front door and isn't surprised when it swings open, despite the police tape, someone threw a bottle through the window, pieces of broken glass all around scattered so far as the door, she steps around it as she enters the property more fully.

  
The table she was flung onto still lays there broken and splintered. Someone’s written in red spray paint along the walls, a creepy nursery rhyme, and oddly the lyrics to Toxic by Brittany Spears. She goes in more fully, doesn’t touch anything, just looks, she sees the kitchen and police markers around the bowls and pots still dirty from use and now mould and grime. The window in here was left open, Kory goes to it, and looks out into the vegetable patch, she goes out the way she came, retraces her steps, doesn’t linger over the sofa or coffee table.

  
She walks the perimeter once, twice. Walks carefully around the chalk outline of that one police officer. When she reaches the vegetable patch it is overgrown and the squashes have rotted on the vine and the grass path is full of thistles and the tallest strands of it reach mid-shin. At the far end of the garden a branch off a tree and fallen on the fence, it must of come off in a storm.

  
Kory takes on last look at Angela's house, somewhere that caused her so much trouble at one time, one moment quasi-sanctuary and the next not quite prison, but something similar. The next moment a tomb perhaps. Kory looks over this place, feels the crackle of light under her skin (or rather crackle of lightning) that her powers bring, she has the impulse to burn this place to the ground. To make uninhabitable, to get rid of it; no sofa, no coffee table, no dining table, no peeling damask or floral wallpaper. But she takes that heat, that fire and put it aside.

  
She turns on her heel and walks away.

  
Kory picks a direction and walks miles, until her feet ache, until she wishes she'd stopped at any of the scattered bus stops she passed, but she continues. She walks along empty open road, a road she recognises. There is that industrial complex in the distance, one she knows.

  
No one has been here since she, Dick and Donna had come. The pick up truck she drove is still sitting were she left it, key dangling in the ignition. There is a fine layer or dust though on the dashboard. She reaches inside and pockets the key, locks the door.

  
She’s cautious as she approaches the double doors, her steps light and her breathing quiet, but no one comes to accost her, no traps waiting for her to bump into, nothing but open empty cavernous space. Her fingers tingle though, anyway. She makes her way toward where she last saw her ship, walks until she finds herself rooted in place, muscle memory maybe. She can’t tell, but she pauses there.

  
The thin purple beam of light scans her like last time, the ship speaks or the AI onboard the ship speaks, she answers as unprompted as she had the first time, as the ship uncloaks she takes it in more fully than she did the first time. Notes the sharp lines of it, the angular body, and the spindles jutting out, and finally she goes up the gangway and inside.

  
The inside of the ship is dim with white blue up-lighting that gets brighter the longer she stands, and she remembers these halls, not the rushed trip with Dick and Donna, but the ones before. She remembers getting this ship, standing in this hall, brushing her fingers over these very walls, remembers being proud. The greater details are still faded though, but she has something and that is more than she had before.  
She goes through each of the sections of her ship, sees the galley kitchen, picks up the mug left to dry. She goes into the next room, the main bunk it seems, bed frame bolted to the floor, the bed is nicely firm, an almost furry looking throw on top of the bedding. She doesn’t dare touch anything in there, just looks and tries to convince herself she's not a voyeur.

  
Kory makes to leave but instead tells herself to stay, this is her room she won’t make herself afraid of it. So she investigates her own space, sits on the bed (it is as comfortable as it looks). The room itself smells floral, heady almost, not of any earth flower, but rather she knows this smell, familiar opposed to floral, known to her and instantly soothing. The main bunk isn’t very large truth be told, enough for a full bed and bedside tables on either side.

  
But the bunk is big for the relative size of the ship, not opulent like her half formed memories of bedrooms that flash by, forming and dissolving like smoke. The walls themselves are made from smooth panels of metal and sparsely decorated. There are two narrow doors placed next to each other opposite the bed, she comes close to one and it slides open, a gentle hiss of hydraulics. The room it reveals is a narrow washroom, a glass door dividing the sort of shower at the far end, a toilet and a sink, a tall cabinet near the door. When she rummages through the cabinet she finds surprisingly regular looking wash cloths, towels, toiletries and half familiar trinkets; perfumes or hair oils judging by the vials or even cosmetics, when she twists one canister open flecks of red bronze pigment coat her fingers.

  
Behind the other door is a tight walk in wardrobe, one side shelved and the other with two rows of hanging clothes. Some sleek and black like her stealth suit, uniforms perhaps, but more are in shades of gray, various and deep shades of purple or brown. Most curiously though is the black velvet bust sitting in the center of the shelves. When she brushes her fingers against the soft material there is a slight indent and spots of wear matching the necklace she wears.

  
Kory continues to stare at the bust, fragments of memory come to her, hard to hold on to like water, a woman she assumes is her mother draping the same necklace she wears around her neck, a large group of onlookers in front and all around her, a successful trial maybe but the memory doesn’t feel born of blood, it feels celebratory. This necklace was a gift, a hard earned but deserved gift, it comes to her unbidden, an inauguration then. The question remains though an inauguration of what?

  
She searches through the hanging clothes, finds dresses, more stealthy clothes, a dusky purple coloured long heavy overcoat. She continues her search returning to the shelves and finds a velvet box, inside are matching board cuffs, more like gauntlets than anything but without the gloves for the hands, she remembers being gifted these too along with the necklace, besides the cuffs she finds a gold armband to match. She rolls the armband in her hands and sees engraved in the Tamaranian script words she knows: _Crown Princess Koriand’r, May Your Path be Straight and Your Rule Be Kind and Just_. Kory honestly doesn’t know what to make of that, so she carefully places the armband back down and gently closes the box puts it back.

  
That’s enough of that.

  
She finds a more neutral space in the control room, sits herself down in the captain’s chair, and is unashamed to be delighted that it spins. She lets herself press buttons and pulls up the HUD, she runs her eyes over the star map it brings up, recognises the star system as her own, Vega. She looks closer and sees Tamaran in her mind, the wide open planes and the lush forests. (She played in those forests, with Komand'r and their governess, Selor. She and Komand’r would look for little insects under the branches of fallen trees. Quiz each other on their names, offer them to their governess, she would indulge them as long as they didn’t get too rowdy. The memory makes her smile to herself, imaging Selor's smiling face in her mind.)

  
Kory startles at her phone buzzing in her pocket, she takes it out to a text from Gar.

  
**GAR TO KORY: hey, what u up to?**

  
She smiles, and taps out: **KORY TO GAR: Not much, just in my ship, spinning in a spinny chair :|**

  
She cackles to herself as her screen lights up with: **INCOMING CALL- GAR**

  
“Ship,” he says rapid with excitement, words tumbling over themselves, “ship, what do you mean ship? As in boat? Or like spaceship? Kory! Are you freaking- what the fu- Kory! Don't you think that that’s important information to share with your friend who happens to be very cool with aliens, and very cool in particular with spaceships, and that said friend might want to see and or be in an actual real life spaceship! What the actual fu- Kory!”

  
Kory can’t help the laugh that burst out of her.

  
“Kory this isn’t funny!” Gar nearly yells, verging on distressed.

  
In the background Kory can hear Rachel calling out, “Is that Kory? Give me the phone- Gar!” Over the phone Kory can hear some serious sounding grappling, an offended yelp and then running, there’s the loud slamming of a door.

  
Then Rachel says, breathless into the phone, “hey Kory, how've you been?”

  
“I’ve been alright Rachel,” Kory tells her slowly a smile in her voice.

  
“Yeah?” Rachel replies voice low, Kory can imagine the downturn to her mouth. “That’s good.”

  
Kory sighs, stops her idle spinning, “something the matter?”

  
“No!” Rachel says quickly, “nothing’s wrong, nothing at all, why would you ask?”

  
“Rachel…”

  
“When are you coming back? Dick says we shouldn’t stay here for longer than we need to. He’s planning on moving us.” She says in a rush, not panicked but annoyed.

  
Kory swallows, nods to herself, “that’s a good idea Rachel, that apartment’s been compromised. It’s better if you leave.”

  
“You? Not we?” Rachel asks cutting to the quick. “You won’t come with us?”

  
How does Kory answer that, of course she'll come, but there is so much still here for her in this ship. This treasure trove of partial history and understanding, but she can’t say that. So she says instead, “yeah Rachel, I am coming, I'll meet you there.”

  
There's a muffled thump from the other side of the phone, Rachel yelps and has a hissed conversation with someone between her and the door. The door Kory imagines Rachel leaning against creaks open, and she can hear Gar at a distance.

  
Rachel groans and throws out a quick, “one second, Kory.”

  
This is nice though, for all the noise and tussling, it's nice to at least hear them be young, Gar and Rachel have gone through so much, with such little time to heal or process in between, they can’t take time the Kory has, they have to stay put, but it's good to hear them carve out something normal in the midst of it all.

  
“Sure, take your time.” Kory drawls, getting up herself wandering around the command station of her ship, inspecting other surfaces, opening up doors under the table tops, only wiring underneath nothing exciting.

  
“Sorry about that Kory,” Gar calls out, it sounds vaguely tinny like they’ve put her on loud speaker.  
Rachel snorts, “whatever, where are you anyway?”

  
“Never mind that!” Gar cuts in, “tell us about your ship.” 

  
“There’s not much to tell, Gar, it's,” she pauses here not quite knowing how go describe it all, “a spaceship and it's mine.”

  
“So, that’s what you went to Ohio for.” Dick says voice distant and warm sounding in understanding.

  
(“What? You knew? You knew Kory has a spaceship and didn’t think to tell me? What kind of friend are you?”

  
“Seriously, you’re going to yell right in my ear?”)

  
Kory didn’t know he was there, he can be so silent sometimes, slipping in and out of spaces. But she can picture them all in her mind, Rachel and Gar on the sofa, Dick standing over their shoulders, arms leaning on the back of the sofa.

  
“Yeah, I guess the ship was calling to me.” Kory tells them, maybe too honest by half.

  
Dick clears his throat at that, his voice too soft, “well, is it done calling?”

  
“I think so,” it’s honest enough, right now she’s done listening at any rate.

  
“Good,” he sounds like he’s pleased, pleased for what though, that she’s done, that she could be coming back? (In any case this little group is probably too co-dependent, living in each other's back pockets.)

  
He continues, “that’s good because we’re moving off soon. This place is too known. You should hurry back before we set off.”

  
Kory raises an eyebrow at that, “you can’t boss me about, I'm royalty, I don’t take orders.”

  
Gar's responding yell puts a smile on her face that won’t go no matter how much she wills it away.  
They talk like that for a while, going backwards and forwards with questions and quips. The way Dick goes silent for a while is telling in an unknown way, is he wary of her being royalty? Gar sounded excited a rapid fire of questions: of which Planet; where's her crown; will her subjects come; can they still hang out (Dick sucks in a harsh breath at that one, too obvious for anyone not to notice, when Gar clears his throat and asks something else everyone is thankful).

  
When they finish speaking Kory feels lighter, she winds her way back through her ship, stopping at the main bunk, she pulls a few of her spare clothes out her rucksack to make room for the velvet box containing her cuffs and armband. She folds the spare clothes away neatly, running her fingers over the wall as she leaves. Her phone buzzes again as she’s in the doorway between her room and the main corridor, it’s Gar.

  
**GAR TO KORY: so u are coming back right? **

  
**YOU TO GAR: Yeah, I am.**

  
**GAR TO YOU: oh good, Dick’s pining was getting to be waaaaaaay too much, it's only been a day but yikes. :/ :’( :0 =_=**

  
She doesn’t bother to fight the smile that breaks out on her face.

  
**YOU TO GAR: Good thing I'm coming back soon then huh? You missed me too right?**

  
**GAR TO YOU: oh yes, undoubtedly. no doubt about that, me and Rachel are totally crying buckets.**

**GAR TO YOU: :’( :’( :’(**

  
When she makes her way down the gangway she turns and calls out to the ship, the Tamaranian words flowing off her tongue, she watches with banked awe as it shimmers and cloaks again. (She never did tire of seeing that.) She leaves the warehouse on lighter feet. She turns over the engine in the car and is gratified that it ticks over, she throws her rucksack into the foot well in the passenger seat, sets the satnav on her phone, turns the radio on and pulls out of the industrial complex.

  
…

  
The sun is already setting as she leaves the warehouse, the sky turning from a muted blue to peach to lavender to mauve to navy. She drives through the night, across the flat open land of Ohio, the gas station is stops at is near empty this time of night. The cashier has a baseball bat beside her, she eyes Kory warily when she comes in, taking in her casual clothes, jeans, t-shirt, a jacket, and those same painfully normal trainers. In the florescent lights she must look out of place this late into the night.

  
She makes herself bad coffee from the ancient machine near the chilled aisles, makes her selections from the minimal amount they have on offer, a disappointing looking sandwich, a bar of chocolate, and an energy drink. She trails the aisles once more, stretching her legs, picking up a magazine on a whim because the headline is particularly scandalous. The cashier doesn’t make conversation, just scans Kory's items, charges her gas and reels off her total in a disinterested voice.

  
Kory drives some more, the road is open and it gives her time to think. Tamaran is a place she belongs to, in the same way it belongs to her. The planet in a solar system far away is her own, woven into her blood and bone, this far away place she remembers she loves, this far away place she gave up so much to save. But now, there is this new place with new people, Earth is a home of sorts too, the people she is returning to are a home too, after a fashion. There doesn’t have to be a division between the two, this old her she was searching for under rocks and high places, in the oceans and deserts. As Kory drives along the dark, quiet roads she realises quite suddenly that she doesn’t have to sift the salt from the sea, an impossible quest, just to get to know herself, the salt and sea are one and the same.

  
The radio is quiet in the background, she taps along to the music, turns it up and cracks the windows, lets the wind in.

  
She stops near the far end of Indiana in the small hours of the morning. Drives into an empty far off parking lot, takes her things and abandons the pick up truck. She finds a bus stop and waits, rides the bus until it gets to a busy street, few people milling around starting their day. She gets off and finds a hotel, nicer than the motels she's been staying in lately, books herself a room and just throws herself on the bed and sleeps for several hours, dreamless and restful.

  
When Kory wakes up it's the late afternoon, weak sunlight filtering through the curtains, she scrubs her hand over her face, knuckling at her eyes, wishes she had a least changed into her sleep clothes. She orders room service, an all day breakfast with extra hash browns, while she waits she pulls her things out of her rucksack. Spreads everything across the bed, she's not that many clothes left, she dumped most of them at the ship to make room for the velvet box.

  
That same box sits expectant and accusing on the bed where she leaves it, asking her why exactly did she take it? She took it because she felt like it and it's hers, impulsiveness be damned. She showers while she waits for her breakfast, takes her time in the bathroom, moisturises and chooses her clothes for comfort, ease of movement and not much else. When her breakfast comes she takes her time with that too, leaves a tip for housekeeping, packs up her things and goes.

  
She finds another Greyhound bus station books her ticket to Chicago, and calls Dick.

  
“Kory, hey,” he says softly, “you okay?”

  
“Hi,” she breathes happy to hear his voice, “yeah, I'm fine. Just on a bus to Chicago.”

  
“Oh,” he's surprised, “that’s great, when are you arriving?” 

  
“In about three hours,” she tells him.

  
“We can meet you there.” He blurts, he pauses waiting for her answer.

  
“Dick-”

  
“I mean, we could meet you at the station? All of us? Get dinner or something?” If he was aiming for blasé he misses by a mile. He waits for her again, listening for her answer, pretending he wasn’t vulnerable just then, like he didn’t show his soft under belly.

  
“Yeah, I'd like that.” Kory answers honestly, biting her lip on her smile.

  
…

  
When the bus finally reaches the station the sun is setting, she leaves the bus station and finds the three of them leaning against the soccer mom van Dick insisted on. Gar spots her first he pushes off the van and comes towards her pulls her into a tight hug that she returns with her rucksack straps pulling into her shoulders she holds him so close.

  
“It’s good to see you,” Gar says into her shoulder, arms squeezing her closer.

  
“It’s good to see you too,” Kory says into his hair, she’s on her tip toes, sways them a little.

  
He pulls away slightly, looks very serious for a moment, “when do we get to see your spaceship?” he pauses, an impish grin pulling at his mouth, “your highness.”

  
Laughing she shoves him on the shoulder.

  
“Stop hogging Kory,” Rachel calls out, laughing as Gar waves her off.

  
Rachel flings her arms around Kory's waist, knocking Gar out of the way. She doesn’t say anything just holds her and breathes deep, tucked into Kory’s neck, Kory holds her extra tight at that, doesn’t say anything either. Catches Dick’s eyes over Rachel’s head, gives him a soft smile, eyes creasing.

  
When Rachel releases her she tugs Kory’s rucksack off her shoulders, takes it to the van. Kory watches her do it, pull Gar by the arm to take him into the van with her. Dick's still standing in front of her a few paces away, it's not a large gap, but it might as well be a canyon for all they move.

  
“How’s Donna?” She asks, the first thing she could think of with the way he’s looking at her, all soft deep fondness and humour, sparkling brown eyes. He chuckles and shakes his head slightly as he takes long steps towards her.

  
“What?” She asks again, “cat got your tongue, Grayson?”

  
“Yeah, right,” he says, as he grips her face in his hands, thumbs brushing over her cheeks, under her eyes “something like that.” He kisses her soft and lingering, all banked heat and tenderness, her hands come to hold his waist of their own volition. He kisses her firmer at that promisingly, his hands sweep down to her neck, thumbs stroking behind her ears.

  
The honking of a car horn jolts them apart, “enough of that! You promised us food.” Gar yells out, leaning over the driver’s seat to press on the horn again.

  
Dick is still smiling though, ignoring Gar, still holding onto her, he drags his hands down her shoulders pulling at her hands, he squeeze her hands once, twice, the separation has made him over fond she thinks, all kiss drunk and affectionate (although this could just be how he usually is, all surprising sweetness, she wouldn’t know, but she'd like to), he looks at her softly, dark eyes gentle and glittering in the half light of the sunset and the streetlights flickering on all around.

  
“C’mon, we've only got 20 minutes in this pick up parking.” He inclines his head towards the van, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

  
The car ride is quiet as they drive off, the radio on low. Rachel keeps stealing glances at her from the backseat, not appraising, just looking. She catches Gar doing the same thing, she can’t make out their expressions but they seem calm and happy enough. They all seem calm and happy enough, with the quiet driving, peaceful in a way that few things are. There’s bound to be difficulties ahead, Kory knows she isn’t so foolish to think that this one thing is it, but looking at Dick from the corner of her eye she's not worried, looking at Gar and Rachel in the back she's not even a little nervous, these people are hers and she will protect them and be protected in return.

  
“Where are we headed for dinner?” Kory asks them.

  
Dick smiles at her as he merges into the main flow of traffic and answers, “I don’t know, you choose.”

  
END

**Author's Note:**

> So hello! What started as free writing and tbh waxing lyrical about Kory turned into this. I hope it was enjoyable. (Although, this will probably be moot come the 6th September.)


End file.
